


Identity

by Soulmagicmindtricks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Body Horror, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, Horcruxes, M/M, Mind Link, No Bashing, Possessive Tom Riddle, Possessive Voldemort, Selective Amnesia, Sirius lives!kinda, Slow Burn, Telepathy, fighting against common enemies, harrys a little shit, mindfuckery, trapped together in the inbetween/"kings cross", unstable reality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8531221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulmagicmindtricks/pseuds/Soulmagicmindtricks
Summary: They were rivals. Then reality shifted and well, now they need whatever help they can get. Even if it means working together with…him. Together they'll have to face trials such as Grindelwald’s army, ghosts and the eldritch horrors of the in-between. Yet the worst obstacle they’ll face is the truth of who they really are, if they want to escape the in-between alive. No Time Travel. Set During DH





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here's chapter one of that accursed plot bunny. I have a rough idea where this is going but we’ll see how this plays out. Keep an eye on the tags as i’ll be adding more as I go along. Unbetaed because I’m a chickenshit.
> 
> Also just wanna take a moment to mention I took a few sentences directly from deathly hollows. So if you get some deja vu well spotted, that's why. If you're curious i have the general idea for this fic here on my tumblr http://soulmagicmindtricks.tumblr.com/post/150985649359/fic-idea. Thanks for reading hope you enjoy

The only warning was a weak tingling from his scar. Wincing, he clutched his head.

 _His wand was held in front of him by a long-fingered white hand._ _L_ _ight appeared from its_ _ti_ _p and a_   _dot_ _scurr_ _ied_ _across_ _his_ _arm. His wand moved slightly_ _and an array of greens, blues and yellows glistened back at him._

_Beetle wings spread and then shot up into the sky, buzzing incessantly._

_He brandished his wand towards the pest and felt himself bare his teeth. Long fingers tightened around his wand while he hissed, “Avada kedava.”_

Harry gasped as if emerging from deep water. Hefelt the solid weight of a hand. His hand. And there, the agony was there, in his head...his scar. Panting **,** he pressedagainst his burning forehead and with a sickening lurch the world turned sideways. His face slammed into the ground and he couldn't breathe, couldn't think.Groaning, he tasted dirt and leaves.

Yet, the pain of falling was nothing compared to this burning. His forehead had to be splitting by now, his bones were on fire and he was sure this must be death....wished for it. Time passed. Seconds, or an eternity, until mercifully the burning faded to a sting.

Where was he? Who was he?

Footfalls came from nearby and were coming closer. It sounded like something fast. His breath quickened.

No time to plan. He had to run, _n_ _ow._

But he couldn’t move.

'Move!' he thought, straining harder. He wouldn’t die like this, not without a fight. Gritting his teeth and with great efforthe turned his head. Leaves crunched under his hot cheek.

He opened his eyes and a disembodied head floated a few steps away. A bright light hovered in front of it and cast its features in harsh relief. Wildly he thought of Will-o-the-wisps luring lost travelers with lanterns. To their death.

He swallowed hard. If only he could move! Then he could distract it and run. Squeezing his eyes shut he held his breath, hoping he’d be forgotten if he was quiet enough. It was a stupid idea, he knew, but if it worked..if it bought him some time…

The steps stopped and wild hope surged in his chest. Did it actually work?

The back of his eyelids brightened to a bright red and his stomach dropped. His heart thumped so viciously against his chest he was sure it would burst. This couldn't possibly be it, could it? Dying completely defenseless and killed by something like _this_. No! He refused to die. Somehow, he'd find a way to get past this. He had to!

Swallowing hard and with great effort, he forced himself to play dead. This was his only chance. If he convinced it he was already dead it would get bored and hopefully leave. But then again maybe it wasn't picky? Maybe it would decide to eat him anyway? He forced himself to stop thinking about it.

‘Don’t breathe, don’t breathe’ he thought ashis lungs burned and his chest constricted painfully. The thought of taking a single breath teased him mercilessly. Perhaps it wouldn’t notice, if he was quiet enough? Just a single...no, he couldn’t risk it. With a sharp sense of terror, he realized he only had seconds left before he'd have to breathe. At best.

The bright light disappeared and the thing shrieked.

He flinched, only catching himself at the last second. Wildly, he hoped it didn't notice. But he could swear it sounded alarmed, terrified actually, rather than threatening. Why? Maybe it didn’t want to kill him after all? Still, it would be best if he held his breath a little longer. Just to be sure.

With a heavy thud, it dropped in front of him and his eyes snapped to the blurry form before he could think better of it. The thing's voice was distorted and muted as if they were underwater. But, he wasn't wet so that couldn't be...?

'Why'd I open my eyes!', he thought and his stomach dropped. Thankfully the thing seemed distracted so he forced his eyes to quickly close again. Maybe it hadn't noticed?

A warm hand shook his shoulder repeatedly. The warmth was as pleasant on his cold skin as it was terrifying.

The form startedshrieking again.

He almost covered his ears. But in a flash of insight, he realized there was a better way to end this. With a jerky motion, he swatted at it and was stunned when his hand actually connected with a loud, _smack._

It yelped, jerking backwards and grew quiet.

Sweet relief. And then a single, wonderful thought occurred to him: “Breathe”. Greedily he gulped down mouthfuls of air and relief flooded though him as he listened to own ragged breathing.

'Honestly, did it have to shriek like that?,' he thought with a wince. 'Bloody painful, that, a bludger to the head would be better'.

With a jolt of terror, he looked at the being and was grateful it hadn't moved. He mentally kicked himself for being stupid enough to forget about it even for a moment, no matter how harmless it was currently acting. Especially since he literally just _attacked_ it. Stupid.

The form made a low, distressed noise but did not attempt to touch him again. The bright light reappeared and harshly illuminated his surroundings.

He could laugh at the situation, here he was terrified out of his bloody mind and this, thing was _scared_? Of what? _Him?_   Well, maybe it needed help? He was the sort of person to help others wasn't he? Yes, that sounded right.

Slowly, his eyes trailed up the arm and he squinted at the blurred and shadowed face.

It's bushy hair obscured the patch of night sky which was visible though the dark branches high above them. Something with hair like that wouldn't hurt him **,** surely. He well, trusted that hair and found himself chuckling at the odd thought.

It sounded confused now. Little wonder really, though he couldn't find it in himself to care, as long as it didn't shriek at him again. Or try to kill him, naturally.

He noticed a second voice then, shaky and weak, though it was further away.

Why were they so nervous? The forest was quiet, so why were they terrified? Could they be scared of him, like he had been scared of it? But he was harmless! Wasn't he? He was rather sure that he was. Either way, he was harmless now. But why did that bushy hair look so familiar--!

There was a sensation much like ears popping and then his memories returned in a jarring rush. He knew these people!

'Hermione! And....and Ron! Of course, who else would be with me in this bloody forest?'

He had to – he must – why was it so hard to think?

“You are NOT coming out of that tent Ron Weasley!” her voice shook but he wasn't certain if it was from anger, fear or even both.

There was apained noise, so yes, Ron was attempting to do just that.

“IF YOU'D TELL ME WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON--” Ron said, ending with a groan.

Harry felt himself grinning, face stretching until there was a comfortable burning to it. Merlin, his face might burst from the sudden affection he felt for these two. His dearest friends.

'Must be delirious, from the pain probably?' he thought, still grinning until he found himself in a coughing fit.

“Harry?” Hermione said, her voice trembling slightly. A hiss of pain came from the tent and she looked back and forth between them while worrying her lip.

Harry licked his lips and opened his mouth **,** fighting against the tight feeling in his throat.

“I-I'm” he coughed, while pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I'm fine!” he shouted for Ron's benefit. “Not sure about my ears though,” he rubbed one of his ears pointedly and tried for a weak grin. It probably came out pained more than anything.

Ron shouted, “You’re a bloody git Harry!” Followed by unintelligible muttering.

Harry felt his brow furrow. He didn’t understand wasn’t Ron his best mate? Shouldn’t Ron be relieved he was okay? The answer should be obvious, he somehow knew. But the more he tried to think the more his head felt like cotton. He wasn’t sure if he was more irritated at Ron or himself.

“Ron do you nee-” Hermione said, turning towards the tent.

“I’M FINE,” Ron said snappishly.

Hermione stiffened **,** muttering something before shaking her head. She rounded back on Harry.

“You – YOU,” she began and he felt anger begin to swell inside himself. What's with that tone, shes blaming _him_ for this?

As he opened his mouth he saw her face collapse and the fierce look she wore before was worn down to nothing. Her shoulders and head lowered as if carrying an overly large but invisible burden. He could do little more than stare at her as his conflicting emotions made it impossible to speak.

“I, wewere so worried!” her voice voice trembled with emotion and her eyes watered with the threat of tears. She looked like she had just seen a boggart.

He felt himself tense and his eyes widen impossibly. Honestly he'd gladly face the dragon again rather than this. He had no idea how to comfort her, unsure if anything possibly could.

Her face seemed to have difficulty deciding whether to be furious or afraid. She then rushed forward and embraced him then, nearly crushing him as her body shook with quiet sobs.

Unsure of what else to do, he placed his hands on her back. He felt like he should be saying something to comfort her but he couldn't think of anything. What could he say?

A few moments later she slowly let go.

“First Ron and then -then” she choked down a sob, her face tensing with the effort and hugging her arms to herself. “I couldn't wake you, you just, just laid there, and I thought...” her voice wavered.

He feltincredibly guilty even though he only played dead to save his life. He remembered then the burning he had felt in his scar and knew this HAD to be related to his link with voldemort. Somehow. But it wasn't as if he looked into Voldemort’s thoughts by choice! With that thought, memories of their last argument at Grimmald place began to circle in his head. Vividly, he recalled Hermione accusing him of enjoying his link or rather, “relationship”, with Voldemort.

Anger rose like a viper in his belly and he felt his skin warm with growing rage. How dare she. How _dare_ she blame him for this?! As if he could control this, this stupid cursed link he had to Voldemort! He didn't choose this!

But he looked at her tears and purposely swallowed down his sudden anger.It would be terrible of him to be angry at her when she was so upset. She had just thought one of her best friends had died after all. But he couldn't tell her the truth, she would snap at him not blocking the link and he'd say something terrible in return. His temper never was the best after all and she _was_ the one in the wrong. Later, when they calmed down, he would tell themabout his vision. At least Voldemort was still abroad, far away from them, looking for Gregorovitch.

And that rage he felt, Voldemort was angry because..he got bit by a bug? Despite himself, he felt the corner of his lips twitch into a smile and shook his head. Somehow he doubted Hermione would find it amusing right now. Any urge he had to smile disappeared at the thought.

“Must've er, dozed off a bit, sorry Hermione,” he muttered while rubbing his forehead unconsciously **.** His hand came back feeling wet and oddly warm but he paid it little mind.

“Dozed off? That's it? Not looking into Vol---”

“Don't say his name!” came Ron's voice,panicked and angry, from the inside of the tent. At least he had given up on attempting to move, the last thing they needed was for him to bleed out again.

“Fine,” snapped Hermione while glowering at the tent. “You-know-whos mind then!” she said, turning back to Harry.

“I didn't mean it to happen! It was a dream! Can _you_ control what you dream about Hermione?”

“If you just learned--” Hermione began but her words might of as well been gibberish, distracted as he was by the oddest tugging sensation.

It...was coming from somewhere deep within himself. From his soul? If felt like a dementor was here right now, attempting to coax his soul out of him. Though oddly it was... almost pleasant?

Until something inside him popped and shifted, twisting unnaturally. Barely he resisted the urge to be sick. Watching his bones burst through his skin would have been more natural than whatever this was. That he was sure of. 

The world became awash in a terror not quite the same but shared with his own. His scar threatened to burst with pain. Then did.

A hand, his hand, flew to his forehead. Hunching over, he pressed one hand firmly to his scar. Wetness dribbled down his hand to his forearm. There was a sound then, like the rush of water.

The killing curse.

"No!" he shouted. No one else would die for him!

He pushed himself from his sitting position and rammed into Hermione with all his might, determined to get them as far away as possible. Both of them were sent face first into a bush.

'Harry!' she sputtered and grunted as he landed on her. "Ow! what---"

“Whats going on?!” Ron shouted.

Harry's eyes jumped from shadow to shadow, wand ready and his hand twitching at the slightest hint of movement. He hadn't seen any green light but that sound, that sound was just the same! Each movement of the bushes around them sent his heart racing and ears pounding.

He heard a grunt of pain from the tent, followed by more angry muttering.

"He can't be here! I would have sensed him!" Harry said, more to himself.

There was a loud, distinctive thunk from the inside of the tent followed by pained swearing.

'Did he find a way to track us?! But—how?' Harry thought. The forest Voldemort was in looked nothing like this one, he _had_ to still be abroad. Sure, he could of apparated but that didn't seem likely. Then again, what if voldemort was using their link to lower his guard? To trick him like last time...

Sirius's slack face. The veil. His hand reaching towards--

“But, how?” Hermione said in a rush. “He-”

Harry jumped to his feet and shouted, "Expelliarmus,” while pointing his wand towards a dark cover of trees. Nothing happened.

A shadow seemed to stir.

There! To the left!

He aimed his wand towards it, arm shaking and a spell on the tip of his tongue. His heart thumped painfully, desperately, in his ears.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all, no light except the dappled moonlight on the forest floor.

“Homenum Revelio” he heard Hermione say as if from a great distance.

_The dark forest blurred and reformed into a mountain road._

_Harry’s voice was high, clear, and cold. “Impossible, Lord Voldemort will not-”_

_Thin and raised dark lines zig-zagged across his entire forearm._

“ _No!” he snarled._

“No, no...,” Harry continued, moaning as he held his head.

Again the rushing sound grew louder and he gasped in pain. He felt his hand slacken, his wand slipping. A sense of terror overcame him then. Powerlessness. Hunger. Nights spent in a cupboard, nights in a cold bed...

No!Desperate, he grasped for his wand, eyes and movement wild with need.

Yes! He had it! His fingers clenched around the wand, knuckles white with the force of it. But it did not break. He grinned, eyes brimming with joy. Yes, it was his once more, as it should be...

“Harry! Snap out of it! No ones there, Harry!” Hermione shouted in his ear while shaking his shoulder.

He tore her hand from his shoulder and shoved her away. With a trembling arm he pointed his wand at her, gritting his teeth from the throbbing pain of his scar...

'Imprudent girl!' he thought, 'How dare she touch me'

He looked at this, _girl,_ face pale and horrified and felt his fingers physically twitch with the urge to strangle her. To feel the life leave her, to see those wide eyes leave their very sockets....but ah, there were better ways to end her life. More, creative.

A hissing sound came from below and he looked down. The locket had risen from under his shirt and now hung in midair. Ah, so that's were it was coming from. He paid it little mind, after all it felt right for it to be there. With him.

“N-no,” Hermione said, words choked with emotionas she took a step back towards the tent.

The flap of the tent opened and a ginger boy appeared, holding onto the tent flap with a white-knuckled grip. His pale and freckled face was scrunched up in obvious agony. The boy's eyes were closed and he looked positively green.

“Will someone tell me what the bloody hell is goin-” the boy's eyes opened and his voice choked and died. 

Good, the boy should be afraid. He was going to kill them after all. He grinned, amused at the thought as he lazily pointed his wand at the boy.

“Harry?” the boy said halfway incredulousand halfway whispered.

As he looked at the boy he was overcome with a strange feeling that something was terribly wrong. He frowned at the anxiety curdling his gut, now uncertain and wary. No, he did not like this feeling.

“Ron!”, the girl shouted and looked behind herself to where the boy clung to the tent flap.

Harry looked at her and saw her wand was halfway raised. At _him_. As if she could be a threat to him! Such foolishness!

“Your,” the boy said in a high-pitch voice, sounding half-choked, “E-eyes! Red! B-Bloody hell, they're red!”.

He narrowed his eyes at the boy. Red eyes? What was this lunatic spouting about?

“H-harry! F-fight him Harry you're stronger than V-Voldemort!” the girl shouted and he instinctively swung his wand back towards the girl.

Voldemort? Why did that sound so familiar...but no he was Tom...no Harry Riddle..no, no..he was, he was...

His forehead throbbed. With a scream of frustration he clawed at his head, feeling tears come unbidden as the pain continued to tear him apart. He began to wonder why he was so desperate to live, if it meant this pain, he'd rather die, die and be free of this...

The girl did the strangest thing then. She lowered her wand while maintaining eye contact. Her face was determined, ready to die...a gryffindor surely.

“Harry I, we, believe in you. You can fight h-him Harry!”

Something made him look at the boy, who was still pale faced and grasping onto the tent flap.

“Yea-a-h, mate what Hermione said,” his voice was shaky at first then rapidly gained strength. “You're stronger than snake-face Harry!”

This was all so irritating and...comforting? No, no, he thought, just managing to force his twitching fingers into a fist and towards his chest. No! He couldn't, wouldn't kill them! Because they were...his friends?

Oh merlin! Did he actually almost?

“Ron, Hermione” he croaked and shakily lowered his wand, completely sickened with himself.

“I--.” Several thoughts ran though his head at that moment, 'I’m afraid Voldemorts too strong, scared that i almost hurt you both, sorry, merlin i'm so sorry, what if I'm turning evil'.

Hermione rushed towards him as he felt himself sway...

_dangerously so but he righted himself just in time. Paranoia gripped him as he clutched at his chest, which rose and fell in short, too-shallow breaths. It was spreading. He could not stop it in time._

_He must keep safe, safe, safe---_

_He snarled at nothing and everything, hissing in irritation. There was a buzzing around him now. His wand turned towards the sound._

_It was beautiful. The swarm of scarabs glistened in the wand light. It was death._

_'No, No! This could not--! No, he must go somewhere...somewhere...' with great effort he finished the thought, 'safe.'_

_'Where? Where where where?' his thoughts circled and he clenched his teeth._

_Smack_! A body tackled him from the front, followed by a grunt of pain as a hand tried to pry his fingers from his wand.

A woman screamed shrilly. “Ron! No! Stop, you can't---you're-” and grabbed his attacker’s shoulder.

His wand! Desperately he tried to wrench the wand from his attacker’s grip. He must not let it go! He would be defenseless without it, he would die, nothing was more important than that!

He sunk his teeth into the arm and the human screamed. It squirmed desperately and he felt the urge to laugh, as if he would ever let it go! It tried to take what was his, rightfully his! The taste of blood on his tongue was aggravating, if only he could extend his jaws and eat the squirming human whole. He was so hungry, he was not sure if one human would be enough to satisfy him...

The female shouted something and a burst of light slammed into his chest. His mouth slackened, eyelids drooping and felt the odd sensation of hair and skin slipping through his teeth.

‘The boy was escaping! He must---,’ the world tilted and rushed towards him. Instinctively he tried to reach out and break his fall but his body was annoyingly stiff and unresponsive. With a thud he slammed sideways into the ground. Moving was impossible.

Merlin, that _hurt_. Yet, the pain shook something loose form him. A sense that he must...bile rose up his throat and he was sure he was going to be sick...he had to resist... ** _resist!_**

With great effort, he forced the feelings of panic back and away from himself. Only to then feel his guts squeeze painfully from equal parts guilt and horror.

Ron! Oh merlin, he just bit Ron!

He tried to move his mouth but the spell held fast. He had to speak. He had to tell Ron he didn’t mean to do that. That he was sorry, merlin was he sorry. Ron had already lost too much blood earlier. Would this- would he die from...he forced himself to stop thinking about it.

‘Finite Incantatem, Finite Incantatem’ He thought instead, again and again and imagined he was ripping the spell from him. Like casting of a blanket.

His hand moved easily. He blinked rapidly, staring at his palm in blatant disbelief. It _actually_ worked. He began to grin but then shook his head. No, this was no time for celebration. _Ron._

‘Ron,' he croaked, looking at his friends stunned faces. Hermione was holding Ron now, their faces both equally stricken. His own face probably looked the same.

Blood oozed from Rons arm, the same blood that now covered his own lips and chin. With a trembling wand, Hermione pointed at the bite wound and in a choked whisper, said a spell.

“Harry... bit me?” Ron said, sounding both bewildered and affronted. “Bit, _Me_?”

He had to know Ron was going to be okay; needed to see the wound heal with his own eyes. He opened his mouth, intending to tell them how sorry he was, to ask if Ron would be okay---he had to--

But then a pain, a pain beyond pain, tore into him. He squeezed his eyes shut andclenched his jaw as it clawed desperately at something deep within himself. Something which should never be touched.

_I must...I must hide...hide again...the forest..._

Blindly, he pushed back knowing he couldn't give in. He could never give in, no matter how bad it hurt, no matter how desperate he became--- he felt his body splitting, splintering --- his very soul ---- he felt his fingers twitch.

_I turned around and became nothingness, a black mist, sucked into a tube....leaves under my bare feet..safe...in time...but only just...my body trembled.._

And he screamed, and he broke and was no more.

 

* * *

  

He was standing still, listening to the silence. Yet, he was not alone. As the thought occurred to him he felt something shift feebly above him. That seemed terribly odd because he hadn’t remembered underneath or above existed until now. Wait, no there was more to the 'something' above him. A part of it was dangling behind him, the tips of it tickling the peach fuzz behind his neck as it kicked feebly at air.

It squirmed again and he winced as his forehead began to ache terribly.

He rubbed his forehead and then paused, brow furrowing. _That_ was not a forehead, yes, he was certain now foreheads definitely did not feel like that. Carefully, he felt it again and with a start realized he knew what this was. It was fingers. Impossibly small fingers.

At this discovery, his hand stilled on top of the small and thin fingers.This, was odd wasn't it? Yes, he was sure it was though he wasn’t entirely certain why.

What was on top of his head?

The form made a small, pathetic whimper and he knew then, it was a baby. A baby...was on his head. Was this a joke?

Come to think of it, the babies whimper had sounded odd, was it sick?

He wished to see, was overcome with a desperate need to see. And it was then, he remembered: he had eyes. He opened them.

He stood in a bright mist, though it was unlike any mist he had seen before. The cloudy vapor was not hiding his surroundings, rather the cloudy vapor had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor appeared to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be.

A mirror appeared before him then. As he looked at the mirror, starting from the bottom, he found there was nothing special to this mirror. It was simply a long rectangle. There was no edging at all. However, what he saw when he reached the top made him recoil violently. It was a small naked child but its skin was raw and rough. It looked like someone had attempted to flay it and halfway succeeded.

Fear rippled through him narrowed his thoughts to one idea:Get it off!

Shuddering violently, he grabbed the tiny hand on his forehead and yanked hard.

It shrieked in agony and he screamed, at the pain, the agony, he would die here. The pain was too great...

Some time later he slowly opened his eyes and looked closer at the baby, shuddering and twitching on top of him. It gasped weakly, lips opening and closing like a half-dead fish. It was pitiful.

Afraid but determined, he forced himself to look at its hand again. The small fingers weren't laying on his forehead, no, the fingers were _attached_ to his forehead. Its flayed skin was a continuous line with his own.

The urge to be sick was overwhelming. It..was connected to _him?_

He could do nothing more than stare in the mirror, his ashen face looking back at him. The baby whimpered again and he felt terrible, he had hurt it hadn't he? He raised his hand again, wanting to comfort it but paused halfway and felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it, but it repulsed him.

‘ _It'_ _s_ _inside_ _me,’_ the thought repeated again and again, like a horrible echo.

There was movement in the mirror again and he dared not breathe. A naked man stood a short ways behind him.

The man looked somewhat like himself at first. Then he noticed his nose was gone, the bone-white slits a stark contrast to the mostly healthy skin around it. Spots of the face looked like the baby on top of him, flayed but worse somehow.

Other objects appeared in his peripherally. One was a snake which was slithering closer to the man.

Yet, he could not look away from _him_. Despite himself, he felt overwhelmed with curiosity and the _need_ to be closer. Who or what, was this?

He raised a hand towards the man but his hand went through the mirror as if nothing was there. The mirror pulsed brightly and then reformed into white mist again.

He paused, confused momentarily at the white nothingness around him before turning around.

His foot rose of its own accord and began to move towards the man. Then the other. Slowly, cautiously, his steps grew nearer but still ready to jump back at any moment.

The pace was awkward. He felt half drunk as he lunged forward with one step then inched forward on the next.

As he grew closer, he felt the body above him spasm wildly. His forehead burned viciously where they were linked but he found himself curiously numb to it.

Thinking the baby must be afraid, he touched it, trying to calm it, and the baby’s unattached hand gripped his. Hard. He winced and then he _saw._

How could the man possibly still be standing? In places the mans legs were mere bloody threads, with only a few specks of normal skin here and there, as if in afterthought. In some parts, he could see clear out the other side.

The mans chest was in the same condition. Most of it was open, practically see-through, with thin threads of meat connecting each hovering piece to each other. There was a horrible sense that one would snap, any second now, and the man would fall into himself. Nothing more than a pile of meat, bone and blood.

Run, now! His instincts screamed.

Still, the desperate desire to get closer clung to him and pulled him towards the man. Equally, the tremendous urge to run, run until his body failed him, tugged him in the opposite direction.

He froze a few steps before the impossible man. His own heavy breathing was the only sound in this world as his chest heaved up and down desperately like a trapped animal.

He needed to run. Run, before it opened its terrible eyes and spotted him.

The snake slithered up the body and Harry winced, vividly imaging what would happen. The meaty threads snapping, body bursting and blood gushing onto him.

Yet nothing happened. The snake now rested on the mans shoulders. It stared at him. Objects circled around the man as well. A ring, a goblet and...

The mans eyes opened, half-lidded. Red eyes with slits for pupils stared back at him sleepily. The white, skeletal hand slowly rose towards him, reaching, beckoning…

Harry took a step back and stepped not onto ground, but nothingness. Swallowing a scream he fell backwards. Into an endless shimmering white.

The man rapidly became a dot in the distance and he relaxed into the familiar sensation of falling. Distantly, he knew he should be panicking but he sensed he would never reach the ground until he wanted to.

‘I’m Safe _\--_ Merlin, I did it! I escaped!.’ Grinning, he closed his eyes. Wind whistled in his ears and tousled his hair, as he fell faster and faster. Further and further he fell, away from the impossible man.

_Pain._

He gasped. Something large and heavy had rammed into his chest. He felt the beginnings of true panic when that ‘something’ gripped him painfully tight. Ruthlessly, desperately, he tried to claw it off of him. Anything to end this pain, in his head, in his chest...

It hissed and gripped him, impossibly enough –harder. Something slithered around his neck, its scales brushing against his oversensitive skin. He jerked backwards, or rather tried to, but could not. His scar burned mercilessly and he screamed.

Small, hard objects slammed into his back and he knew nothing more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve decided to finish this chapter instead of studying more for my anatomy exam, woo! Why do I do this to myself, every goddamn time haha. Well here’s for hoping the scantron gods will smile upon me once more. In the meantime, hope you all enjoy this.
> 
> Alright so its been a little bit since I posted last, so recap: While looking for Gregorovitch/ the deathstick Voldemort got bit by a scarab. Unfortunately for him, scarabs trap their victims consciousness in the in-between (“Kings Cross”) while they feast on bits of the victims soul. Luckily Voldemort’s horcruxes allowed him to hold on to enough conscious thought to make a narrow escape (before his horcruxes consciousness got dragged to the in-between with him).
> 
> Most of the last chapter was Harry fighting through bouts of confusion about who he is (thanks to the scarabs neat little trick). The most memorable incident being when Harry bit Ron when the horcruxes consciousness were bleeding into his own.
> 
> We are now entering the twilight zone…

 

He was falling.

But in which direction? He was falling headfirst so...forwards.

So that meant any moment now he’d be-- shit. He jerked backwards and the world spun sickeningly. There was a funny sense of pressure in his head as if his brain had suddenly grown too large. Thankfully in seconds the feeling disappeared.

‘Merlin, that was too close.”

But before he could think more about it, something solid appeared underneath him. Huh, that's right, that would mean he must be sitting on something? Odd, he didn't recall sitting on anything?

Another sensation appeared, though this time in his right hand. He was….holding something. Something small and slender. Could it be his wand? He rolled it between his fingertips. No this was metallic and cold. But strangely it was just as familiar.

He wanted to see and remembered he had eyes. Opening them he looked down and blinked. And then blinked again but it still didn’t make sense why he would have this.

'A fork?' he furrowed his brow. “Wasn't I just in a forest, why would I —Hermione! Ron!”

His head snapped up and cutlery clanged all around him impossibly loud. Even the quietest whisper of a conversation felt like a scream. It took everything not to scream himself as his hands flew to his ears to stop the noise; why was there so much noise?

The fork smacked into his forehead with a solid thunk. He cursed softly, hunching over while holding his head with his free hand. Any minute now his forehead would split open, he was sure of it. He could almost feel the imaginary blood dripping down. 

'Might as well just drive the fork in there and be done with it, honestly,' he thought.

A deep and pained breath brought the smell of dinner wafting up his nose and his stomach grumbled agreeably. It smelled delicious. And he was so, so hungry...

Still there was a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important. Again and again, he tried to think of what it could be. Yet annoying enough nothing came to mind. Well he was in the great hall, that he was sure of at least.

He blinked back tears as he took in the strangely bright room. The colors and shapes around him were strange. It was as if they were changing as he watched them and reluctantly morphing into what they ought to be. He shook off the thought. It was just his vision refocusing that's all.

He looked to his left.

There was red hair and freckles. “And I said---,” the boy began to say while chewing what must be a treacle tart.

Ron. Oh, right, he had been looking for him hadn't he? Frantically in fact. But why? Ron seemed alright, great even. He felt the oddest fondness as Ron shoveled more food in his mouth while Hermiones face twisted in disgust.

Still it seemed important, whatever he was worrying about. He felt his eyes narrow with the effort of it while ignoring the throbbing pain in his forehead. Yet, no matter how he tried he couldn't remember why he needed to find Ron so badly. All he knew was that he had felt terrible about something. But what was it?! And why was there a metallic taste in his mouth?

Wincing, he closed his eyes and rubbed circles into his throbbing forehead.

'Must of been dreaming. Didn't think I was that tired but guess I must've been? Looks like I'll have to make up another dream for Trelawney’s class after all. Not that she'd know the difference,' he thought with a snort.

He froze. Something was close. Something he wished quite desperately wasn’t anywhere near him. Goosebumps broke out of his skin. He swallowed hard. It felt like swallowing ice. Whatever this was, it definitely wasn’t good for his well being. Disturbing didn’t even begin to describe it.

Yet no one else seemed to notice. A scream was crawling up this throat, he needed to warn them! But he’d only look barmy if he tried to warn them right now so he resisted. Best not to tip off whatever this was anyhow he figured. Not yet anyway.

But how could they not feel this? It was everywhere! It crawled across his skin and filled his lungs. It slipped through his eyes and curled around his frantic heart. He shuddered and yet, at the same time he was seized with the desperate urge to get closer…

Resolutely he shook the thought off. No, he wouldn’t give into whatever this was. But where was it coming from?

There. His eyes snapped up and over to the slytherin table, near where Tom Riddle sat. Yet, nothing odd seemed to be going on. After all, Riddle was just talking to a slytherin. Nothing strange about that.

No, wait, that didn't seem right. Tom Riddle couldn't be here!

There was a flicker of a memory, something vital to everything. A flash of blonde hair. But when he tried to grasp the memory it fell apart rapidly like a dream after waking. Still, the overwhelming sense of wrongness lingered.

Hairs rose on the back of his neck the longer he stared at tom riddle, instinct making it impossible to look away. It felt like he was staring down death itself....

In a fluid motion Riddle turned his head. Dark eyes stared at him steadily as if Harry was the only other person in the Great Hall despite the two filled tables between them. The slytherin's lips twitched into a frown, brow furrowing and Harry unconsciously mirrored the expression.

The dark eyes bled into a glowing red.

Terror sent Harry's fork slipping through his fingers and clanging onto his plate. Loudly. Distantly he heard a voice beside him say something, sounding concerned. But he could hear nothing beyond the rush of blood in his ears.

The face he saw was strange, inhuman, as if oddly stretched but that _couldn't_ be. A few quick blinks later the teens face mercifully returned to normal. Still, his heart pounded erratically and he swallowed hard.

'Somethings wrong. Very wrong'.

Memories came to him in a rush. Odd that he had forgotten about the rivalry he had with the Slytherin prefect, Tom Riddle.

For a moment he felt strange about this, bothered by the feeling that something was off. Terribly off. Wasn't Riddles hair supposed to be lighter? No, no that couldn't be. It was always dark. And...and they had hated each other since he rejected Riddle's friendship in that tailor shop long ago. Always had, always will, nothing strange about that and he felt a deep sense of righteousness at the thought.

The oppressive presence left him slowly. It uncurled from his heart, ghosted through his mouth and dragged itself across his skin. Almost like a caress. He shuddered.

Then nearly screamed. The presence caught on his forehead which now blazed red hot. . Under his skin, something twitched and clawed madly at the pull, like something alive. Wincing he found himself pulled forwards, his belly digging into the hard table and leaning towards Riddle.

No! He would resist this, whatever this was. His forehead throbbed as he pushed back against this need to run closer. Trembling he placed his hands against the table and pushed back, away from the pull, and his scar burned ever hotter. His eyes prickled.

Then, it was gone. Except for a mild ache which he interpreted as soreness and a faint sense of longing. Easy enough to ignore.

What the bloody hell was that?! Why had it disappeared? It was too easy! There had to be a catch.

He frowned and Riddle raised a single delicate brow at him. Oh, he had been staring at Riddle a long time hadn’t he? The git probably wouldn’t let this go for weeks. He glared, daring Riddle to say a word.

But Riddle only smiled, polite enough. But something in Harry knew it was all teeth. Fear made his mouth go dry and he clenched his wand under his robes. Why was he so afraid, It was only Riddle. It wasn't as if he was the dark lord. No this wasn’t Riddles doing. He couldn’t of caused whatever that disturbing sensation was. So Riddle had to be possessed. But by what?

Vaguely, he felt a hand lightly pushing on his shoulder but couldn't find it in himself to care.

'I should stop him now! This could be the only chanc--'.

'Stop?' he mouthed the word. 'Stopping what? Riddle hasn't done anything, well beyond being a git naturally’

It’d make sense if this was about the possession but no, his gut was screaming that this was about Riddle himself. His stomach twisted uneasily, this was no stray thought. The conviction behind it wasn’t normal so it had to be about something important. But what?

‘Why can’t I remember?'

A wand jabbed sharply into his side.

"What?" he bit out.

“Finally! We've been trying to get your attention for minutes now!" Hermione said with a severe frown.

He looked over to Ron and saw his concerned look.

“oh, er...sorry.” he said lamely. “I just...”

Tom riddle's stretched and inhuman face flashed in his memory. Although he held back a shudder there must have been something to his expression because his friends shared a look.

“Whats wrong mate?” Ron said.

How could he possibly explain? “It's just...”

"Just what?" Hermione urged.

He thought again of the twisted, inhuman face and those red eyes. Eyes so red they seemed to be glowing which burned inside his mind even now. And there was also that oppressive presence. Whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly be human.

How could he even possibly begin to describe it to them without sounding completely barmy?

Everyone else seemed engrossed in their own conversations but still, there was no point in risking this news making rounds. He could see the newspapers now, Boy-who-lived to go mad!

He leaned close to them and whispered, “Something's wrong with Tom Riddle.”

His eyes darted over to Tom Riddle's spot. It was empty.

 

* * *

 

“We’ve got to hurry, he couldn’t of gotten too far” Harry said and his brisk walk turned into a jog.

He had practically leapt from his seat when he saw Riddle was missing. Of all the days to forget the marauders map naturally he had to forget it today! What if they couldn’t find Riddle in time? What if the presence used Riddle’s body to harm someone else and he could of stopped it. If only—he shook off the thought, there was no point in beating himself up about it now, map or not map they had to find him.

“Harry what are we even— He's a perfectly good student! A prefect, in fact! I know you don’t like him but its not excuse to—” said Hermione.

“But what if he's in danger and we’re the only ones that know?! What if somethings controlling him?”

“What?” she started but recovered quickly, “If somethings possessing him then tell a professor, Harry, really!” She said it as if he was the one being ridiculous. A student was in trouble, git or not he couldn't leave him like that!

“Like that's ever helped before! Hermione, really” he sniped back, before remembering that he had been so focused on pursuing Riddle he had forgotten to to tell them about what he saw.

As if sensing his thoughts Ron asked, while jogging beside him, “What happened anyway mate?”

“His face,” he searched for words. “It was distorted...like he was stretched out or something? And his eyes were red and there was this odd—”

 _“Come...”_   said a cold voice. Harry jerked to a stop. It sounded distorted and staticky somewhat like a muggle radio station.

“Did you hear that?” he said.

“Hear what?” Both of them said.

“Listen,” Harry said in a hushed voice.

After a few moments it repeated again, punctuated by static: _“Come...come..to...me”_

“That,” he said and his friends looked at each other. He didn’t like that look.

Reluctantly Ron said, “Mate, I didn’t hear anything”.

Harry opened his mouth to snap at him, were they deaf?

However Hermione was faster. “Are you sure you’re not just stressed Harry. You look like you could use some rest”

“ _Rest_? Riddles in danger and you tell me to get some bloody _sleep_? You, you two think I've gone mad don’t you?”

Their faces froze and they glanced at each other.

“Some friends you lot are,” he snapped and balled his hands into a fist. Weren’t they supposed to believe in him? Wasn’t that what best friends did for each other? Turning, he stormed away, determined to find Riddle with or without them.

“Wait, Hermione try that spell! Uh, humeno something or another,” said Ron.

Harry looked back at them.

“If someones messing with Harry they might still be nearby,” Ron continued while looking at Hermione, who had a look of dawning comprehension.

Now that he thought about it, that would make sense. If someone was cursing him it would explain why he was the only one that could feel the presence and hear the voice. And except for that last time, there was so much noise that he wouldn’t of heard anyone casting a spell. Perhaps they had cast it non-verbally?

As Ron glanced in his direction he caught Ron's eye and mouthed thank you.

With a rapid flick of her wand Hermione cast “Homeno Revelio!”.

Ron grinned back at him and his chest ached at the sight. It felt like weeks since Ron had smiled at him even though he knew it had only been hours. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He fingered his wand, ready but...nothing happened.

Ron frowned before saying, “Suppose they might of gotten away?”

“ _Ron!_ Stop this, Harry obviously just needs sleep!”

Harry's hand twitched at his side, he was wasting time, if someone wasn’t pranking him then Riddle really was in danger.

“So you’re choosing to think Harry's a nutter are you?”

“No! Of course not. For heavens sake — Harry you feel asleep at dinner! What makes more sense?”

“But what if I’m right and somethings possessing Riddle? Something dangerous? How would you feel is someone got hurt and knew we could of stopped it,” he practically spat and began to jog again.

He might not be too late, he could still help Ginny! Wait, Ginny? No Riddle was the one in danger, the one possessed, not Ginny? Maybe Hermione was right and he could use more sleep after all. No, he might be tired but he knew what he saw.

Their rapid footsteps echoed behind him.

“Harry—,” Hermione began, exasperated.

“Stop Hermione,” Ron warned.

“No! I refuse to let Harry exhaust himself looking for something when _obviously_ he’s just tired! What if he gets hurt”

Harry slowed to a stop. There were three possible ways to go but which way should he choose? Which way was the right one? There was no obvious hints on the floor and he didn’t hear the sound of footsteps in any direction.

 

This way! He decided, to the right.

He was wrong. 

* * *

 

He felt his head droop, only managing to catch himself at the last second. His eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly before going still.

With a sigh, he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“What am I doing?” he said softly to himself.

What if he had just imagined it all? After all Riddle's face never changed again. But something deeper, like a half-forgotten memory or instinct urged him to watch the marauders map long after the snores of his dorm mates had faded into background noise.

Merlin, he was so tired, even his eyes burned. Really he ought to sleep.

“Just one more look and I'll sleep,” he promised himself. ''He'll be sleeping in his dorm, same as always,” he thought bitterly but spared a glance at the map all the same.

 _“...come,”_ the distorted voice was louder now and seemed to come from many directions.

He raised his wand and looked around. For a moment he wondered if his dorm mates were pranking him. But no, that wasn’t possible. No one knew. Only Ron knew and he wasn’t the sort to prank him about something like this.

Certain now that nothing was there, he looked down at the map again.

And nearly whooped with joy. Riddle was gone! He knew he wasn’t imagining things. Wait, no he was getting ahead of himself. This could be nothing. Maybe Riddle went to the loo? He found Riddle's footsteps quick enough but as it turns out he wasn’t in the loo. He found himself grinning at the thought, amused despite himself.

The steps paused on the map and with a jolt he wondered how Riddle had sensed him. And nearly smacked himself for the thought. Stupid. Of course Riddle didn't know, there was no way he could know.

The footsteps remained still and the seconds passed slowly as Harry held his breath.

“C'mon Riddle, move,” Harry said. Nothing happened.

“Move,” he said firmly and Riddle’s steps darted across the page and out of the slytherin entrance.

Yes! Riddle was definitely up to something. After all, he wasn't on prefect duty tonight and yet, here he was sneaking out of the Slytherin common room at...with a quick tempus he found it was 2:06 am.

‘No wonder I’m so bloody tired.’ he thought and rubbed his face.

He glanced at Ron, snoring loud as ever, and felt the strongest urge to shake him awake. It’s been too long since they'd last shared an adventure. But, the Cloak wouldn't fit over both of them like it did when they were younger. And even if he cast the disillusionment charm on Ron Riddle would see through it easily. No, he had to go alone this time. There was no time to waste.

Tom Riddle’s life might count on it. 

 

* * *

 

With the marauders map and cloak it was easy to find him.

The torch lights flickered and cast long shadows behind Tom Riddle, who stood where a corridor split off into two. Riddle’s brows were furrowed and he was leaning forward slightly, as if listening for something.

 _“Come..,”_ it said again and Riddle darted towards the left, cloaking billowing behind him.

He could hear it too! He grinned and quickly hurried after Riddle. But, if it was from whatever was possessing Riddle why could Harry hear it to? He frowned and was unnerved. He couldn’t be possessed too could he? He didn’t feel possessed. Well nothing he could do about it now, he’d just have to figure out things as he went along.

He could swear Riddle was gliding across the floor rather than walking. For a second he even thought riddles feet had turned into mist but no, it had to be a trick of the light.

The invisibility cloak did nothing to hide sound so he tried to mask his footsteps by matching Riddles. Thankfully he must of been doing a decent enough job or Riddle was too distracted to notice.

Until Riddle stopped abruptly. And Harry caught himself a moment too late. His footstep was as loud as a gunshot and he winced.

Riddle spun, wand snapping up and pointing nearly directly at Harry. His lips were turned down and he examined his surroundings with a shrewd look.

Their eyes met briefly and Harry felt his heart lodge itself in his throat. There was no hint of fear on Riddle’s face. It was strange, shouldn’t he be a bit nervous about something invisible following him? If anything though he looked annoyed. Maybe it was the creature possessing him? He had expected him to be possessed to start with after all. But his eyes were dark, not red, so maybe he was only halfway-possessed? Could anyone even be halfway-possessed? What would that even mean?

Then again, knowing Riddle it could just be him. After all Harry wouldn’t be surprised if the wanker thought nothing could possibly beat him. Probably thinks hes stronger than the bloody dark lord.

 _“...come...”_ the voice sounded louder now. Riddle titled his head towards it, hesitating a moment before turning and hurrying down the corridor. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. That was close. Too close.

He followed further behind riddle now and after some time they came to a door. As Riddle slipped through the door, leaving it ajar, Harry was struck by a strong sense of deja vu. Through the ajar door he saw a line of shining porcelain sinks under a large glistening mirror. Wait, the sinks should be cracked and the mirror should be spotted shouldn't they? And there was a large leak on the floor, he remembered... but there was nothing there now. He shook off the feeling, deciding that he must of dreamed it.

Why was Riddle going to this bathroom this late at night anyway? Why not use the ones in the dorms? And...as Harry looked back at the door he realized, why a girls bathroom?

The door creaked as he tried to sneak through and he cursed mentally. Stupid! He should have been more careful.

Tom Riddle brandished his wand in his direction.

'Shit, shit --wait i'm under the invisibility cloak, there’s no way Riddle can see me. He must’ve been reacting to the noise that’s all, just like earlier.' If Harry just moved slightly to the left he’d be out of the way and Riddle would be none the wiser.

Tom riddle’s red eyes locked with his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry we won’t be stuck at “Hogwarts” forever, this just happened to be the most natural place for their consciousness to bleed together. Eventually they’ll be on the road but well, that isn’t going to be for a bit.


End file.
